


what's your next month like?

by blonde



Category: Actor RPF, Bill Skarsgard - Fandom, Music RPF, Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blonde/pseuds/blonde
Summary: You sleep with another man the night of your Bachelorette party, per your fiancé's blessings, but the one-night stand uncovers more than just a newfound kink.





	what's your next month like?

**Author's Note:**

> i was daydreaming one day, minding my own business, when this idea came to mind and wouldn't stop harassing me until i wrote and published it. so enjoy :)

You met Bill on the night of your Bachelorette party. Clad in a tight white dress and a tiara, he'd caught sight of you, amid the loud music and lewd women grinding against poles, and whisked you away to a hotel nearby, your fiancé's words echoing in your head, "nothing and no one is restricted tonight," as Bill proceeded to fuck you into a state of complete submission.

He’d tangled his fingers in your hair, his hold commanding as he’d pushed more of himself in your mouth. You hadn’t dared disobey, your face a mess of tears and spit as you’d felt him hit the back of your throat, pre-cum trickling down. The smell of weed had pervaded the room. “Come here,” he’d said, pulling you up from the space between his legs so you were straddling his lap, instead. “You smoke?” A slight shake of the head had given the answer away, and smiling, almost devilishly, he’d held the blunt out to you. “Doing good, baby.” Grabbing your ass, he’d guided his cock inside you and began thrusting. He kissed you, then, the smoke still stirring in your lungs. The coughing fit and consequential spasms had him dangling dangerously close to the edge, his hand closing around your neck, cutting off the air supply. “Keep fucking bouncing.” Alternating between light and heavy pressure, he had you coming within seconds, clit untouched, before shoving your face into the mattress for another round.

You went home in the morning, tip-toeing into the bedroom. The door to the adjoining bathroom was left slightly ajar, the sound of running water audible. “Baby?” The pet-name brought you back to the hotel, to Bill. You couldn't help but compare the different inflections. Bill's had an air of condescension.

At a friend’s housewarming party, the following week, Shawn pulled you to the side, by the swimming pool in the backyard. “You didn’t come home the night of your Bachelorette party.” He sought clarification. No malice was detected in his words. "Was my girl properly taken care of?" Burying your face in his neck, you admitted to smoking weed, cheeks flushing as he laughed heartily.

You saw Bill again a month later. You hadn't planned on it. But falling asleep in an empty bed yet another night had proven, well, lonely (your fiancé was visiting family in Toronto), and Shawn’s casual prompting did nothing but fuel your libido. Rummaging through the recycling bin by your vanity for the scrap of paper with his number on it, you gave him a call.

His apartment was huge but empty. He also had sparse expensive-looking paintings on the walls. Sporting that usual blank expression behind his irises, he threw you over his shoulder, smacking your ass a couple of times, and carried you into his bedroom. He spent most of the night in-between your legs, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you, his tongue and fingers pure magic.

“Fiancé can’t make you come like this?” He didn’t give you the opportunity to respond. Instead, he pressed his tongue flat against your clit and proceeded to drag it up and down, the friction so gratifying, it left you completely speechless. His index and middle finger slid between your folds, in search of that sensitive area, teasing and curling until you came in his mouth, his name on your lips.

“We have an arrangement,” you said later, it was nearing four in the morning. Laying next to him, you watched as he hollowed his cheeks and took another drag of his cigarette. You grabbed the side of his face and tilted it towards you. Blowing the smoke out the corner of his mouth, he directed his icy gaze on you. “But only when the other is out of town. My Bachelorette party was an exception.” He nodded but you could tell he didn’t care. Putting out his cigarette, he pulled you against him, almost possessive-like, and proceeded to kiss you raw, guaranteeing no other word came out of your mouth.


End file.
